


Say Amen

by karkatmarx



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Hank Anderson, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Top Connor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-27 06:59:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15019193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karkatmarx/pseuds/karkatmarx
Summary: Connor wants to try something new, and Hank finds that he likes it more than he cares to admit.[Bottom Hank, Sarcastic (but not evil) Connor]





	1. Chapter 1

Since Connor had infiltrated Hank’s life, the two of them have fallen into a kind of routine. They spend their days winding through case after case, and their nights tucked under blankets, knees bumping together as they watch movies. Hank refuses to identify it as domestic bliss, but after outfitting Connor in an appropriately eye-searing “Kiss the Cook” apron, it was hard to deny that they were fast approaching newlywed territory. That included christening almost every surface on the house. As much as Hank couldn’t resist Connor’s insatiable curiosity for sex, it was starting to wear on his joints.

It’s a cold fall evening, sun having just set over the horizon. Hank’s eyes are trained at the glass of water sitting on the coffee table in front of him, the sides of the glass looking cold as they collect condensation. The television’s volume is set low, and the lights are even lower, casting a blue glow on the two of them. 

Since about twenty minutes into the movie, Connor has been sliding his hand up Hank’s  thigh, thumb moving in consistent, brain-numbing circles under the blanket. Hank purses his lips, letting his arms spread along the back of the couch behind Connor. The condensation on the glass begins to bead. 

“I find that while filmmaking has certainly developed into a sophisticated art form with the passage of time, the classics are charming, in their own way,” Connor comments, his voice a quiet rumble. Hank can feel the vibration of Connor’s chest on his own as Connor’s pinky finger spreads a inch further up his leg. Hank nods, purposefully obtuse to Connor’s advances.

“All this new age shit always has an agenda,” Hank replies after a beat, heat rising up his neck as Connor’s hand curls down to glide over the inseam on his worn jeans. He supposes even androids can lose their patience. Connor hums, eyelids drooping low as he casts a glance over at the lieutenant.  

“Is there a problem with having an agenda?” Connor says, the corner of his lip turning up just so. The blanket laying over the two of them is suffocatingly hot. Hank dodges eye contact, returning his focus to the glass of water. A drop of water grows larger, and begins to struggle under its own weight. As it slides down, Connor’s hand slides up. 

“No,” Hank replies eloquently, fingers clenching in the knit material of the couch behind Connor’s shoulder. He can feel his erection start to chub up, pressing against the seam only a hairsbreadth from Connor’s inquisitive fingers. 

“Depending on your definition of agenda, I seem to have one,” Connor murmurs, shifting his position on the couch to turn towards Hank. Connor folds his leg under the other, pressing his knee into Hank’s thigh. 

“Oh?” Hank looks over at him finally, raising an eyebrow. Connor’s LED is cycling a cool blue, shining onto Hank’s arm. “And what would that be?” 

“I would like to perform oral sex on you,” Connor says clinically, but the way his eyelashes flutter down to their concealed legs is nothing short of sinful. 

“God, do you have to say it like that?” Hank rebuffs, rolling his eyes.

“I want to suck you off, Hank,” Connor tries, his voice clear and without a drop of hesitation. He exchanges the hand on Hank’s leg for his other allowing thumb to slide up to press on Hank’s zipper. Hank bites the inside of his cheek.

“I’d call that an agenda,” Hank chuckles, curling the arm resting on the back of the couch to pull Connor closer. He looks ethereal, lips parting slightly in anticipation. Hank finds his attention caught on the wet shine of his teeth. Connor moves the blanket off Hank’s lap, and shifts a bit closer, eyes dropping to Hank’s mouth as well.

Their kisses are never rushed, but this one feels packed with heat, the pressure of Connor’s lips and the bite of his teeth making Hank inhale sharply. He’s pressed into the couch by Connor’s deep kisses, artificial saliva dripping into his beard as Connor pulls back, his eyes inky black with desire in the darkness. Hank mutters a curse under his breath, eyes darting between Connor’s swirling yellow LED and the pink tongue tracing the seam of his lips.

“Can I?” Connor repeats, wrapping his hand around Hank’s clothed erection. Hank turns to face him, raising an arm to cup Connor’s face. He presses a thumb to Connor’s lower lip, catching the edge of his tongue as it retreats into his mouth. Hank presses down a bit, watching the skin soften around his calloused thumb. Connor’s cool artificial breath puffs over the digit, and Hank swallows again, anticipation building. 

“Knock yourself out,” Hank replies, drawing back to allow Connor to move. He doesn’t exactly scramble, but the android has to steady himself in his haste to get to the floor. His knees hit the carpet with an inorganic thud, and Hank can hear Sumo shuffling out of the room in response. Hank spreads his legs carefully, and Connor tucks his shoulders between Hank’s knees.

Hank tilts his head back on the back of the couch, following the pattern of a water stain to try to calm his tripping heartbeat. Connor works on his zip, hands cool on his heated skin as he exposes Hank’s garishly printed boxers. Connor hesitates for a moment, dragging his thumb to press at the underside of Hank’s cock. He hesitates until Hank casts his gaze back down. He reaches for Hank’s hips, gripping firmly and yanking him towards the edge of the couch. Hank swallows a sound of surprise, catching himself on the back of the couch.

“Whoa, warn a guy!” Hank admonishes, though it's hardly a threat with the desperation written into his features. 

“I apologize, Hank,” Connor says lightly, though the faint smile on his lips says otherwise. He presses his mouth to Hank’s erection, soaking the cotton through as Connor teases his tongue along heated skin. 

“Sure,” Hank grumbles, pressing his wide palm to Connor’s shoulder. Hank looks down the ripped collar of his sweater, following the delicate curve of Connor’s collarbone to the expanse of unmarred skin under Hank’s DPD sweatshirt. “Can’t even let a man finish a movie,” Hank complains. Connor hums in response, scooting back a bit to pull down Hank’s boxers. Hank’s cock lays thick on his leg.

“It appears as if you have other things on your mind,” Connor works Hank’s jeans and underwear down his legs, pushing it into a neat pile by the edge of the couch. “But if you wish to return to the movie, I wouldn’t be opposed,” He answers, tone light as he leans forward and presses a dry kiss to the side of Hank’s dick.

“Uh huh. Why don’t you shut up and get to it?” Hank replies, voice gruff but hands soft as he cups the back of Connor’s head, how he knows the android likes it. 

And get to it he does. Connor wets his lips, pressing his tongue to the tip and letting his eyes fall shut. His hands find their place around the base of Hank’s cock and under his balls, prompting Hank to open his legs even further as a soft sound drops from his lips. Connor wastes no time in teasing his weak points, dragging the tip over his lips and tonguing the slit. Hank lets his eyes slip shut as he tilts his hips up.

He works Hank over for a few minutes, Hank’s accelerated breath only covered by the mute sounds of gunslinging cowboys. He’s closing in on his orgasm with each pass of Connor’s mouth. It’s only when Connor shifts his grip that Hank looks down at him, taking in Connor’s dishevelled appearance. 

“Hank,” Connor starts, voice as clear and unbothered as usual, despite the mess on his face. “Do you mind if I tried something unusual? From what I’ve gathered, it is rather pleasurable.” Connor turns his eyes up from Hank’s groin to his face, expression curious. Hank furrows his eyebrows, not exactly in the mood for sudden discussion, considering his position. 

“What?” Hank replies. Connor moves the hand he had cupping Hank’s balls to slide back further, the tips of his fingers brushing his hole. Connor raises an inquisitive eyebrow as Hank goes stiff, his spine straightening in shock.

“Whoa now, hold your horses,” Hank bites out, shifting a bit to skirt back into the safe zone. “I’m probably not clean--”

“I’ve been observing your habits--”

“Oh God, Connor, please don’t ever bring that up again. Still! I’ve never, well. Done that.” Hank hedges, looking away.

“Would you let me try it?” Connor says, laying his head on Hank’s bare knee and turning his most pleading eyes on Hank. “Would you trust me?”

Hank hesitates, biting his lip as he looks down at Connor. 

“Alright,” He relents, relaxing a bit from his ramrod straight position and letting his legs splay out. “But if I say stop, we are never speaking of this again,” Hank can feel the heat of a blush climbing his neck, splotchy and ugly in his embarrassment. Connor looks delighted, his smile a mixture of devious and pleased. 

Connor’s hands return to smooth over the patch of skin behind Hank’s balls, making him shiver. He has to slouch even more for Connor to reach it, exposing him even further. Hank bites his lip, holding his breath for a moment and exhaling it shakily as Connor rubs a light touch over his hole. Connor’s hands are warmer, thirium pumping harder to cool down his overworking systems.

He rubs at Hank’s skin for a moment longer before pulling back, licking his fingers liberally to gather more lubricant. Hank watches warily, dick twitching slightly as Connor returns his free hand to a continue a loose, slow stroke. It’s nowhere near the warmth of his mouth, especially when Hank was so close, but he’ll play along with Connor for now. Give it a chance, and Hank’s sure Connor wouldn’t mind giving him an apology blowjob when this whole thing didn’t work out.

Connor casts his gaze downward, his eyelashes a black smudge on his cheeks as he focuses on the task ahead of him. His LED flickers yellow for a moment as he presses his fingers in with a bit more pressure. Hank clenches his jaw, goosebumps raising on his arms in response. Connor moves his thumb, rubbing it firmly under the head of Hank’s cock as he presses the very tip of his finger inside. Hank makes a startled sound, cock jumping.

“Connor,” Hank grits out. The android doesn’t stop, pressing forward and pumping the digit in and out. Hank screws his eyes shut, feeling pulled tight between the twin sensations. It’s not bad, but not good either. It’s… intimate. Connor’s breath is increasing in temperature, dry processed air on his leg. 

“Let me continue for a bit longer, Hank,” Connor pleads, leaning forward a bit to suck Hank’s cock into his mouth. Hank grips at the hair in his palm as Connor slides even deeper inside, curling his fingers. It makes Hank jolt up, balls tightening up against his body as the pressure makes him see stars. He doesn’t make a sound in the moment, but exhales heavily, body wound up from tension. 

“Shit,” Hank whispers, throwing a hand over his eyes. Connor presses again, making Hank arch his back. His cock twitches again, sliding against the smooth roof of Connor’s mouth. Connor grows bolder, thrusting his fingers slowly. 

Hank tries not to whine as Connor slows, probing with a second finger. It aches, but the smooth texture of Connor’s hot tongue pushes it out of his mind. He curses again, mind hazy as Connor curls his fingers against his prostate again. Connor pulls off, tongue swirling and dragging down to the base of Hank’s cock. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Connor asks, hair slightly mussed from Hank’s hand. Hank huffs, peeking from under his arm. Connor looks guiless, but it’s hard to look completely innocent with a cock in your hand. Hank bites his tongue as Connor slowly scissors his fingers, dragging shivers up Hank’s spine. “I can stop.”

“N-No,” Hank replies, cock flexing as Connor doubles down, sinking his hot mouth over Hank’s cock. While most of his touches seemed fleeting until now, Connor seems more eager to make Hank feel every inch of his thin, elegant fingers.  He brings Hank close to the edge again, the hand not buried in Hank’s ass working to smooth Connor’s saliva down the rest of Hank’s dick. 

Just as Hank can feel the coil of his orgasm building, Connor pulls off, squeezing the base of his cock. Hank groans in frustration, pushing his hips up and slumping back on the couch. 

“Connor…!” Hank growls, pulling the hand over his eyes through his hair in a rough motion. “What are you doing?”

“Do you like it, Hank?” Connor asks, tilting his head.

“Is that not self explanatory, you fucking brat?” Hank complains, tightening his fingers to pull slightly at Connor’s hair. Connor just smiles a bit, expression sharp. 

“I’m not equipped to analyze sexual body language, Hank,” He replies, his hot breath making Hank’s dick twitch. “You’ll have to be clearer.”

“If this isn’t clear, I’d be a little worried about your processors,” Hank shivers as Connor pulls out, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. “It’s not the worst,” He continues, shifting his hips to lead the tips of Connor’s fingers back into him. Connor smiles serenely, apparently pleased with this response, and pushes in as he watches Hank’s expression twist in pleasure. 

Connor fingers him ruthlessly, pressing the tip of Hank’s cock to the flat of his tongue. Hank moans, teeth clacking as he tries to mask the sound with gritted teeth. He’s so close, grip trembling as his orgasm builds and builds.

Hank looks down at Connor, sinful lips wrapped loosely around the angry red of his cock, eyes knowingly dark. That’s what pushes him over the edge, yanking at Connor’s hair to press him closer to his body. Connor only stutters for a moment, fingers pressing up into Hank’s prostate and making him see stars as he comes down Connor’s throat. Hank can’t hold back the desperate sound he creates, thighs trembling as Connor milks the orgasm from him.

“Holy fuck,” Hank breathes, leaning back and smoothing his hand over Connor’s head apologetically. “That was something, huh?” He chuckles a little, feeling the embarrassment creep up on him once more. Connor looks awestruck, as if he just discovered what a puppy was, and not how Hank just managed to come with a finger in his ass.

Connor smiles, laying his head back down on Hank’s leg. “You could call it that.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this time hank really gets boned

  
  


Since their encounter on the couch a few weeks ago, Hank has been… hesitant. Every night that the pair fall into bed together, Hank seems as if he wants to ask something, but shakes himself out of it, pushing Connor back into the bed. Connor knows not to push, and is certainly not complaining about the focus his partner has on bringing a sound out of him after those strange little moments.

It’s a Tuesday evening, finding Connor and Hank in bed. Connor has entered sleep mode, tucked under the covers with his lover. Hank had always found comfort in sleeping with him, and it was never too much off Connor’s back to rest his processors for a few hours.

Connor is roused from sleep mode at 3:38 AM by a small, gruff sound of frustration. He keeps his eyes shut, LED swirling as he goes through his startup processing. Internal flow rate stable. Core temperature, 27 degrees Celsius. Hank shifts, cursing quietly. The comforter is pulled off Connor’s right side as he tosses.

He takes in the situation, ever inquisitive. Although he cannot scan Hank with his eyes closed, the temperature under the blanket has risen, as has the humidity. He can hear Hank’s heart, tripping an uneven staccato. It’s higher than his usual BPM, especially considering that he should be asleep.

Connor finally falls to temptation, cracking an eye open and looking over at Hank in the darkness. It’s hard to discern him in the low light, but the moonlight from the cracks in the shades illuminates his silhouette. Hank’s laid on his front, thankfully turned away. His long hair is tossed in a messy bunch on his pillow, shifting slightly as Hank repositions himself. His body temperature is elevated, as is his respiratory rate.

The android lets his eyes trail down, taking in the shadows cast by Connor’s body onto Hank’s. The blanket obscures him, but Hank is propped up on his knees, his visible arm reaching behind himself. As far as Connor can calculate, Hank’s hand must be suspiciously close to his ass. Connor’s LED flickers to yellow.

Connor parts his lips just a smidge, tasting the air. Carbon dioxide, oxygen, water, trace excess of other atmospheric elements. Normal. Androstenone, sweat, urea. Sweat and sex pheromones. Connor licks his lips, his core thrumming with energy. Since they have started experimenting sexually, Connor hasn’t seen Hank masturbate. He supposes Hank wouldn’t need to, considering Connor’s appetite, so this development is certainly… interesting.

Connor keeps silent as Hank jerks himself. His arm is clumsy as it shifts behind him, and Hank only manages to stay relatively still for a few seconds at a time. He is obviously having difficulty achieving his desired result, which, according to Connor’s probability calculators, have a high chance of being related to his prostate. Connor smirks deviously. Careful to keep quiet, he shifts a bit closer, formulating a plan.

“Hank,” Connor probes.

“Shit, fu-- Connor!” Hank exclaims, tensing up and attempt to cover his tracks. His hips collapse to the bed, hands curling up to grip the pillow. Connor doesn’t give him much leniency, sitting up and pressing a hand to his shoulder to keep Hank pressed to the pillows. 

“I usually leave my audio sensors activated for defensive purposes,” Connor replies conversationally, extricating himself from the blankets and sitting cross legged beside Hank’s prone body. Hank’s heart is pounding, and the concentration of moisture in the air rises. “But I didn’t expect this.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Hank pants, keeping his face turned away. Connor hums, using his free hand to trace down Hank’s spine. 

“Were you not masturbating?”

“Can’t a man do his business in peace?”

“You seemed to be the one disturbing my sleep,” Connor counters, hand finally coming to a stop on the curve of Hank’s underwear-clad ass. “Do you like it here?” He slides his fingers inward, grazing the side of his pointer finger along Hank’s crack. Hank shivers, hand fisting in the sheets. He finally turns his head to face Connor, and attempts to prop himself up on his elbow. His face is a blotchy red, betraying his embarrassment. Connor finds it endearing.

“We have sex just fine without you trying to turn the tables on me, you ass. Didn’t you get enough last time?” Hank deflects.

“I just want to give you pleasure, Hank,” Connor digs in a bit more, pressing his finger into the softened opening. Hank makes a strangled noise, ducking his head between his shoulders. “You just had to ask.”

Hank doesn’t reply, clinging desperately onto the shreds of his pride as Connor rubs him in firm, slow circles. His hips cant downward, grinding his cock into the bed sheets below him. Connor teases him for a moment longer before the temptation becomes too much. He peels back the thin sheet between them, exposing Hank’s pajama-clad body.

“Do you want this?” Connor asks demurely, rucking up Hank’s loose shirt to his mid back and slowly pulling down the elastic of his boxers. Hank makes a weak sound in reply, hips rising to meet Connor’s skirting touch. He doesn’t return his fingers to Hank’s ass, watching him grow frustrated as the seconds passed.

“Christ, will you get on with it, Connor?” Hank grumbles, forearms flexing in the low light. Connor hums, moving to push Hank’s boxers even further down. He slides his hand back up, over the hair of Hank’s inner thigh, and to the soft skin of Hank’s balls. “Yes, goddamnit, I want it!” Hank relents, hips twitching up.

Connor finally presses his bare fingers to Hank’s hole, feeling the slick of saliva from Hank’s own attempt at fingering himself earlier. It’s soft enough for Connor to press a finger tip inside, and he watches raptly as Hank spreads his legs in response. 

“I’ll need to increase the amount of lubricant for sufficient digital penetration,” Connor comments, moving behind Hank and lifting his hips once more. Hank makes an indignant sound, confused, as Connor manhandles him into an appropriate position. Connor’s thumbs find their place pressing into Hank’s perineum, sliding up and spreading Hank’s ass. 

“W-Whoa, what are you--” Hank tenses up, raising his head to look back just as Connor dips his head and presses the flat of his tongue to Hank’s hole. Hank makes a strangled sound, head falling back down to the pillow. “Connor, oh holy hell, you can’t just do that! What if it’s…” Hank trails off, Connor’s tongue swirling wetly and dragging another soft sound of pleasure from the lieutenant. 

“I can assure you I have examined the situation,” Connor says, pulling back and working one of his fingers into Hank’s body, “And the benefits far outweigh your initial discomfort.” He smiles, ducking back down. 

“I am not kissing you after this,” Hank replies, sinking back down to hide his face in the pillows. Connor’s thirium pump works harder with every bitten off sound of pleasure Hank releases, core body temperature climbing past 35 degrees as he pushes more of his artificial saliva into Hank’s body. 

Hank cants his hips back as Connor spreads him open, his tongue darting around his probing finger as he slides deeper into Hank’s body. He works the finger in and out, watching Hank squirm and struggle to catch his breath at every fleeting pass to his prostate. Connor pulls his finger away after a few more strokes, working a pointed tongue into Hank’s hole. He buries a whine into his pillow, neglected cock jumping as Connor works his tongue.

It’s tight, tight enough to potentially hurt a human, but Connor forges forward, his own cock throbbing against his boxer briefs and leaking against his hip. 

“Fuck…” Hank curses, reaching one of his hands down to stroke his own dick. His heart is jumping, the scents of sweat and sex mixing in the air and urging Connor to press his tongue even deeper. He eventually has to pull away, spit dripping down his chin and sliding down his neck. It’s no better between Hank’s legs, which has become a wet mess that begs for Connor’s fingers. He doesn’t deny his lover for long, sinking two in and pressing down on his prostate to hear Hank’s muffled yell. 

Connor starts to thrust his fingers again, Hank’s body clinging to his fingers with every push and pull. Connor aches to sink his cock inside, and just the idea has him biting his lip. 

“Hank,” Connor whispers, slicking up another finger and watching the bow of Hank’s spine as he slides it alongside the others. Hank’s hand speeds up, gripping tightly onto the head of his cock and dripping precum onto the sheets underneath him. 

Connor peers over Hank’s shoulder, watching Hank’s mouth as he pants, breath catching as he climbs closer to orgasm. He presses down harder, spreading out his fingers and watching Hank’s expression twist with a mixture of pain and pleasure as he’s stretched. Connor can tell he’s close, an estimation timer appearing in his vision.  Ten, nine, eight... 

And Connor stops him, using his free hand to yank Hank’s hand away from his dick. Hank makes a pathetic keen, something he would surely deny when the sun was up.

“Connor, what the fuck!” Hank grunts, struggling for a moment against Connor’s grip. To hold his hand away from his body, Connor had to rise onto his knees, his hips lining up flush with Hank’s. His clothed erection grinds into Hank’s asscheek. “Don’t pull that edging shit again,” Hank says, though Connor is 98.7% sure Hank is only bluffing, considering his track record with Connor delaying his orgasms.

Sure that Hank won’t cum without a hand around his cock, Connor leans back, sliding his underwear down just enough to tuck it under his balls. His cock slides over the wet mess of Hank’s ass, one of his hands moving to grip Hank’s hip. 

“I’m surprised you’ve never done this before,”  Connor says, his voice buffed by the whirring of his internal fans. An alert rises in the corner of his vision as he exceeds 45 degrees Celcius. “Are you ashamed of liking it?”

“God…” Hank doesn’t reply directly, thighs shaking as Connor pulls back and thrusts forward again, rubbing the tip of his cock over Hank’s hole.

“Tell me,” Connor demands, gathering more more of his saliva to drip down onto his cock. It’s significantly warmer than before, making Hank jump. “Tell me how it feels.”

Hank hesitates, but Connor can feel the way his balls tighten, his arousal only building at the humiliation. “It’s alright,” he hedges, pushing his hips back against Connor’s and feeling the tip catch at the edge of his ass. 

“What is?” Connor presses, squeezing Hank’s hips in his hands. 

“Y-your fingers in my ass,” Hank confesses quietly.

“Do you want my cock, Hank?” Connor asks, ever languid and seemingly unaffected as he slows his thrust down to a sinful grind. “Do you want to get fucked?”

“Shit… fuck,” Hank trembles, stumbling over his own words. His face is burning, even worse now because of Connor’s dirty talk. “Yeah…” 

“Yeah, what?” Connor asks, tone light and teasing.

“Yes, fuck me. Christ. Can’t you take a hint?” Hank grits out, his voice muffled by the linens. Connor grins, leaning forward and planting a kiss on the base of Hank’s spine. He grips his cock by the base and feeds the head into Hank’s body, licking his lips as he sinks deeper.

Connor finds it sinfully good, releasing a soft breath. Hank’s heart pounds, higher and higher, as he holds his breath and adjusts to the feeling. Connor presses his hands into Hank’s spine, shifting his hips and watching the place where they are joined raptly. 

“Connor,” Hank says, head still ducked from embarassment. Connor attempts to soothe him, but his his desire is still overwhelming, his hips pumping deeper on every thrust. 

“You’re doing so well,” Connor praises, reaching down to pick up where Hank’s hand had stopped. He smoothes Hank’s precum down his cock, feeling the pulse under his fingertips. Connor pulls back a bit, pulling out almost completely and then pushing back in, deeper than before. Hank sighs, finally relaxing enough to push back. Connor fucks into him lazily, his desire catching up to him as he selfishly indulges himself. They are both already wound up, only Connor’s robotic nature keeping him from an uneven pace.

“Come on,” Hank gasps, angling his hips up. Connor obliges him, aiming for his prostate as he picks up the pace. His internal sensors are blaring even louder now as he barrels towards orgasm, a warm blast of air hissing through his teeth. Hank grips harder on the sheets, pulling the fitted sheet from the corner of the bed as he cums over Connor’s knuckles. He tenses all over, clenching on Connor’s cock, cursing all the while.

Connor, already close, shoves himself closer, grinding his hips into Hank’s ass. He grips hard onto Hank’s hip as the other hand pushes him down into the sheets, keeping him pinned as he chases his orgasm. Hank scrabbles against the headboard, his orgasm drawn even further out as Connor abuses his prostate.

“Cum inside me,” Hank begs, having lost his embarrassment. Connor picks up some erratic speed, pushing his cock as deep as possible to spill inside of Hank. His circuits overload with a crackle of dry static.

“C-Connor, oh, fuck, it’s so hot,” Hank mutters, hand covering Connor’s on his hip. It takes a moment for Connor to respond, rebooting several of his subroutines to thrum back to life. He pulls back slowly, hands spread wide over Hank’s exposed skin. He falls on his ass behind Hank, feeling artificially worn out. Hank doesn’t move, seemingly just as exhausted. Connor shifts his hands over Hank’s ass, unable to resist the temptation of sinking a finger into Hank’s abused hole. Hank makes a small sound of embarrassment as Connor’s artificial cum seeps out of him, hotter than the inside of his body. Connor presses it back inside of him, watching with smug delight as Hank shuts his legs and rolls over. His face is bright red, respiratory rate still high.He swallows, hesitant. “I didn’t know you were so… kinky.”

“It appears that I am deviant in more ways than one,” Connor replies, lips still tilted up. Hank rolls his eyes.

“Christ. Get over here, I’m not letting you wake us up at the fuckin’ crack of dawn this time. I’ve at least earned that.” 

“Shouldn’t we at least clean up?”

“Do I look like I give a fuck?”

“Fair.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the kind messages on such a uselessly porny fic  
> as always im @karkatmarx on tumblr and twitter, talk to me for more bullshit
> 
> consider leaving a comment to heal my soul


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